When the Fit Takes Them
by Laseri
Summary: Share the journey of twelve year old Merry as he discovers the Brandybuck family's bestkept secret, and ventures outside the Shire for the very first time. Complete at long last!
1. The first step

Disclaimer: Ah, der. I don't own LotR. So what? I still get to mutilate the characters.

A/N: Merry just doesn't get enough recognition in fanfic. This idea popped into my head, strangely enough, while reading FotR. The closeness of the Old Forest coupled with the adventurous spirit of the Brandybucks could make an interesting combination, and (hopefully) an interesting story. This is my take on the real reason the Brandybucks used that gate.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Watching around him carefully, the young hobbit crept out of the large back garden of Brandy Hall. Silently he opened the gate and made for the nearest bush. Once he was sure that no-one was around he began to run down the lane behind the Hall, keeping his head lowered to avoid being seen. He was so intent on making sure he didn't step on a twig that he ran head-on into an older, more sensible hobbit out for a morning stroll.

"Oof!" The older hobbit stumbled backwards indignantly. The young offender was sitting, winded, on the ground.

The older one, feeling a bit out of breath himself, looked hard at the mud-covered face and curly hair in front of him. Suddenly he began to chuckle.

"Master Meriadoc, eh? I should have known. What are you up to this time, hmm?"

Master Meriadoc was immediately on his guard. "Ah, well, nothing really, sir, just poking about, really."

"Poking about? Is that an excuse to go running headlong into respectable folks' bellies as if a pack of wolves was after you? And what's all that dirt doing on your face?"

Merry, as usual, had an excuse ready. "Camouflage, sir. I was playing at being on an adventure and I was being attacked, you see."

"Humph. Well next time, make sure you watch what's in front of you as well as what's behind." The hobbit trundled off, chuckling to himself about "playing adventures."

Actually Merry was doing nothing of the sort. He continued walking and trying to look inconspicuous. It was not a short journey, and the heavy pack of food on his back became steadily lighter as he went. The sun was high above his head before he came to his destination: a towering hedge, forming a barrier as far as he could see either side. On Merry's side of the hedge, the land was typical of any part of the Shire, and very much the hobbits' domain. There were cultivated trees, shrubs, gardens and fields of still-growing crops. A slight breeze stirred branches, and tranquillity reigned over all.

The other side, however, was a different story. Enormous trees towered over the hedge. The depths of the forest were dark and unquestionably wild. Tangled branches and rotting leaves were intertwined with vines and dangling moss. The Old Forest was old beyond memory, untamed, and ever watchful.

This was what Merry saw as he stood looking upwards in awe. The nearest trees stood alert as guards, and it seemed all their attention was bent on his small form.

Suddenly a twig behind him snapped, the sound perfectly clear in the still air. Merry jumped at least a foot in the air, not bothering to look behind him before scurrying out of sight, back the way he had come. Behind him, a rabbit stepped delicately over the broken twig in its path and sniffed at the evening air.

I know, I know, too short, but more is on the way. Will write for reviews!


	2. Berry

Hello again. Have reviews, will write! Thanks everyone! Replies are at end of chappie. All the names are taken from Tolkien's Brandybuck family tree and are the real names of Merry's family members. Enjoy!

A/N: I reposted this chapter with revisions—I accidentally put Wall instead of Hedge the whole way through! I feel silly. I know no-one picked it up, but I had to change it anyway. I've also included the link to DotComElf's bio.

* * *

Merry woke early the next morning. The dark was slowly beginning to lift; the first pale rays of the sun had begun to float through his window. He hurriedly sat up and threw off his blankets. The hobbit quickly discovered why this was not a good idea, and waited for the room to finish spinning before continuing.

He had prepared the night before, and was already dressed for his expedition. This time he was a little more prepared for any chance meetings—in fact he had taken measures to prevent them as far as possible. Hauling a large, heavy bag lying on the floor onto his back, he opened the round window and scrambled out, landing in the thickly foliaged bushes underneath.

He followed the path he had planned the night before. It largely avoided houses and holes, and kept to the back lanes where there was less chance of discovery. It wandered through fields, keeping close to trees and shadowed walls. It climbed hills and dived into thickets and jogged warily over the occasional open meadow.

Gradually it ceased to turn and twist about in search of shelter, and plodded steadily onwards. Always Merry's eyes were ahead of him on this last stretch, straining to catch a glimpse of his goal.

And then, suddenly through the mists of the early morning, it was there. It loomed up through the haze as Merry stumbled out of the brush. The haze burned away, and the Hedge stood before him: strong, dependable, glowing bright with the morning sun, and somehow safe. The last frontier of the world, it seemed to Merry—beyond it were strange and alien lands, and therefore not lands any hobbit should bother much about. Somehow though, Merry was intrigued by the white spaces on the edges of Shire maps.

He approached the wall, and looked up and down its length. To his right, there was nothing of note—just a line of leafy Hedge.. To his left, however, it was a different story altogether. Merry started in surprise as his eyes came to rest on a familiar face.

"Berry!"

"Ha! Caught you again, cousin!" The face—that of a young hobbit, near Merry himself in years—sprang into a broad grin and laughed triumphantly. "That's twice in three days!"

"Not again," cried Merry by way of greeting. "I thought I'd escaped this time. I've been preparing for days, but it appears you have been doing the same for longer."

"Perhaps, and perhaps not," said Berry. His real name was Berilac but, like his cousin's, it was seldom remembered. "Meanwhile I think I deserve to know why we are standing at the very borders of the Shire at six o'clock in the morning!"

"In that case," said Merry, "I deserve to know why _you_ are standing at the very borders of the Shire at six o'clock in the morning, voluntarily."

"I asked first," said his cousin. "So you have to answer first, and then we'll see if I am inclined to reply."

"Well," said Merry, and looked very sheepish. He stared at the ground and scuffed his foot in the dirt. "I don't really know. There isn't really any reason. I just wanted to come. I…never really thought about why."

A knowing look came into Berry's eyes. "I thought as much."

"What?"

"It is almost time. You're being—" his voice dropped in awe—"_prepared_."

"I'm what?"

"Never mind. Maybe I'm wrong; you seem too young to understand." A teasing look came into Berry's eyes.

"Berilac Brandybuck! Stop this nonsense and speak plainly, or you won't like the consequences!" said Merry, annoyed. He knew this was just the reaction his cousin wanted, and he couldn't help it.

Berry was giggling, but soon became serious. "Haven't you heard anything about this yet?"

"No—what are you talking about?"

"Do you see that gate down there?"

Merry looked past Berry and followed the direction of his pointing finger. About a hundred yards away, he saw a depression in the hedge like a hole leading through it. He bobbed his head around and craned his neck to get a better view.

"Have you seen it before?" asked Berry.

"No. What in the Shire is it there for?"

Berry looked his younger cousin in the eye. He beckoned him closer, and whispered with much pride into his ear.

Merry considered this momentous news for a moment, and then asked sceptically, "How do you know? If no-one has ever told me, I don't know why they would tell you instead."

"Well, I am older than you by two years, for a start. But in any case, my father enlightened me when I was your age, and your father shall tell you presently."

"I am not sure I want to be told," said Merry unhappily. "It would make it seem too real somehow—if it _is_ true." He looked up at the Hedge, and the shade beyond it. Somehow the Forest did not seem so fascinating as it had. It looked decidedly darker, gloomier and just a little menacing. Merry felt he had overstayed his welcome—the sight of the edges of the great Outside was too much for one small young hobbit. He said something about breakfast to Berry, and escaped back to safety.

* * *

Once breakfast was over, Merry felt decidedly braver, and decided to tackle his parents on the issue. His mother would be of no use, being a Took by birth. That left his father, Saradoc.

Saradoc proved hard to find, but through various enquiries Merry eventually located him in his study. He was not writing, though paper, pens and ink were scattered over the desk. The hobbit was sitting back in his chair, smoking thoughtfully. Merry entered cautiously.

"Father?"

Saradoc broke out of his reverie calmly enough and turned to the door. "Why hello, Merry! Come in, I won't bite you."

Merry happily approached, and was lifted onto his father's knee. "I hardly see you nowadays, popping in and out like a bird with a nestful of chicks. What have you been up to, eh?" Saradoc ruffled his little son's soft brown hair.

"I've been finding things out," said Merry.

"Really? What sort of things?"

"Very mysterious things. Forests and Gates in Hedges. And Brandybucks."

A slightly troubled look came into Saradoc's kind brown eyes. "What have you found out, lad?"

"There is a gate in the Hedge, near the Old Forest."

"And you know why it's there?"

"Yes. Cousin Berry said I was old enough to know."

"Know what?"

Merry took a deep breath and recited what Berry had told him. "Every Brandybuck must go through the gate when they reach twelve years of age. There is a grownup with him—for a while. Then he must stay in the Forest for an hour, alone." Merry looked up at his father with wide eyes. "Is it true? He said it was almost my time…" His voice trailed off.

"He was right on both counts. You've seen twelve summers. It will be your turn very soon." Merry's father paused. "And I will be with you."

Merry relaxed—he had unconsciously been tense as a spring while waiting for a response. His thoughts became calmer as he considered this new development.

It still seemed a daunting prospect, staying in the Old Forest alone—but it had now taken on the look of an adventure.

* * *

Thanks so much everyone who reviewed—six reviews for one chappie! Yee-ha! Anyway, replies:

NightDaughter: Thank you! I thought it was too!

blah and bass: thanks heaps! He he...I told you to review and you still like it! This is good:)

thelightwithin: Um, thanks, cl…I feel so encouraged…

Lady Meriadoc: Wow—I'm honoured! Glad I made an impression with a true fan. I'll try and clear it up for you; we'll see where my muse takes it. Thanks so much!

Birch tree: I am writing more, and I don't plan on stopping any time soon—this is way too much fun!

Eregriel Gloswen: Many thanks for the encouragement, as per usual! Well, Elf overload was part of the reason for this fic actually. Hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as I will!

I shall now indulge in some shameless plugging:

First off, for anyone who isn't aware, which seems to be most of you, I have a C2 community, and it needs staff! It's called LotR Cutting Room Floor, I do believe two of Eregriel Gloswen's fics are in it, and I am very proud of it so please go to my bio and look at it, if nothing else. Thank you Eregriel Gloswen for joining!

Secondly, everyone go and read my pal DotComElf's debut fic! It's called Life and Those Who Live it, it's a LotR fic and it's suffering from a sad lack of reviewers so far. It's a little bit angsty and will involve the whole Fellowship, chapter by chapter. More than that I'm not saying, but it's worth reading, and we all know how much a new writer needs encouragement to continue, and refine their skills. You'll find it here: http: you enjoyed the chapter, review if physically possible or I'll bite your legs off, and may you visit Middle-earth at least once in your life!


	3. An unexpected visitor

Well, I'm back, after almost two years. I got the LotR SEE DVD's for Christmas and I feel quite ready for another adventure in Hobbit land. As always, all hobbit names mentioned are taken from the official family trees.

* * *

"_But you won't have any luck in the Old Forest," objected Fredegar. "No one ever has luck in there. You'll get lost. People don't go in there."_

"_Oh yes they do!" said Merry. "The Brandybucks go in—occasionally when the fit takes them. We have a private entrance. Frodo went in once, long ago. I have been in several times…"_

- _The Fellowship of the Ring_, Book 1, chapter 5: "A Conspiracy Unmasked"

* * *

Three weeks later, on a balmy summer evening, Saradoc Brandybuck finished his supper, stood up, stretched his arms over his head, and announced he was going to take a walk. His fellow diners shot knowing glances at each other when he invited young Merry to accompany him. Feeling slightly apprehensive, and more than a little annoyed that at least a quarter of his own supper still lay untouched, Merry followed his father outside, conscious of the eyes of dozens of Brandybucks following him with various degrees of curiosity and amusement.

Once outside, Saradoc led Merry to a garden bench and sat him down. Merry gazed up at his father, and took a deep breath, knowing what was coming. He had been able to think of nothing else since the revelation three weeks ago that his first encounter with the world beyond the Hedge was fast approaching. Questions constantly filled his head—how far in would they go? Who else would watch them? Would it be at night or in broad daylight? But most pressing of all—_what was out there?_ There were all sorts of rumours—trees that talked to each other and moved—strange animals, a world away from the cuddly woodland wildlife found within the Shire—a magical river, far down the valley they called the Withywindle—a beautiful lady, clothed in white, who lived in pools of water and could turn you into a tree with only a song—Merry's musings were interrupted by his father's voice at his side.

"Your Adventuring takes place in two days, Merry. It is time I told you exactly what it entails."

Merry listened eagerly—finally his questions would be answered! But the name…

"Adventuring?"

Saradoc smiled and cut in before his son could finish his sentence. "Adventuring is what we Brandybucks have always called the ceremony of a young hobbit's first journey beyond the Gates. And it happens, year after year, like this..."

Merry found it hard to concentrate through all the questions buzzing around his brain, but he knew that whatever his father was saying was probably important and he did his best to listen carefully.

"Now, I know you have a thousand questions, so ask away," said Saradoc at last, with a slight twinkle in his eyes. Saradoc remembered his own Adventuring well, and Merry was as curious as his father had ever been.

"Is it true the trees can talk?" asked Merry breathlessly.

"Ah, well now, you wouldn't want me to spoil a surprise as big as that, now would you?"

Merry felt a bit cheated, but continued asking anyway. "Has anyone ever _died_ in there?"

"Not as I can recall, no," said Saradoc.

"What about that crazy magician who lives in the Withywindle valley? Berry said he could talk to the trees and things."

"I've heard of him, Merry, but hobbits come up with all sorts of things. Brandybucks have been going inside for years, and we still don't know the half of what's inside that Forest. Old Tom and his songs may exist, and then again they may not. Maybe you will be the one to find out the truth of it, eh?" Saradoc ruffled his son's hair fondly. "Come on, time for bed. We've got a lot to do tomorrow, if you want to be properly prepared."

Although he knew it would be near impossible, Merry tried his best to sleep soundly that night and the next, after a long day of meetings, discussions, and preparing supplies. The night before the Adventuring, he was quite unable to sleep, no matter how hard he tried. His pack squatted in the corner of the room, looking like an old troll, stumpy and menacing. Merry blinked hard, but the vision didn't change. Suddenly it moved! It was shuffling towards him, closer and closer, raising its club, its troll-voice laughing with the groan of wood on wood—like tree branches, thought Merry in the middle of his panic, tree branches swayed by the wind outside his bedroom window…

The leaves rustled. Moonlight glanced in through a chink in the curtains and fell on the worn canvas bag sitting solidly in the corner of the room. The nightlight by the bed burned steadily on as Merry blinked, sighed, and lay back down to be drawn into dreams of adventure.

His father woke him early the next morning. Holding his finger to his lips, he motioned to Merry to get dressed and hoist the pack onto his back. The two hobbits stepped outside and Saradoc stopped, said "Listen carefully," and sent a bird's call rippling into the silver air three times. As Merry watched wide-eyed, similar calls came floating from the bushes all around them and dozens of hobbits stepped silently out and surrounded them. They were a diverse group, old and young, male and female, but with two common traits—none of them was under twelve years old, and all of them were Brandybucks. Merry found he recognised them all—by sight if not by name; but as he glanced around at the many smiling faces, his gaze suddenly fell on two that he knew particularly well. The eyes of his cousin Berry twinkled cheerfully as he grinned broadly and waved. Next to him, a tall tweenaged hobbit with an intelligent face gave Berry an admonishing sort of shove. Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo Baggins and Primula Brandybuck, smiled widely at the look of astonishment on his young cousin's face and winked.

Saradoc nodded at the group, and they moved off down the path. To Merry's surprise, the small crowd of hobbits used almost the exact same path that Merry himself had used on his second visit to the Hedge. The other inhabitants of Buckland were still asleep at this early hour, but secrecy appeared to be an important part of the ceremony. Merry supposed it all added to the mystique of the proceedings. He and his father walked in the middle of the group, but it wasn't long before Berry and the surprise guest had caught up with them. Merry stopped for a moment and quickly embraced his cousin. "It seems you're happy to see me," said Frodo, still grinning.

"How on earth did you get here? I had no idea you were even in Buckland!"

"Old Rory kept me informed of events, and I smuggled myself up here last night. They have all been keeping me a secret so as to give you a surprise today."

"Well, I must say, that wasn't very sporting of them. To think it's been six months since you last came to visit and nobody breathed a word!" Merry looked pointedly at Berry, who usually jumped at the chance to spread rumours and cause trouble. Of _course_ he'd been in on it—hadn't he?

But Berry shrugged his shoulders. "I only found out this morning when I bumped right into him in the dark. He thought it was enormous fun, of course."

"Come on, lads!" The call came floating back to them from the rest of the group, of which they were now at the rear end. Saradoc had stopped and was beckoning to them to hurry up. They quickened their pace. Merry suddenly thought of something.

"Did you have an Adventuring too, Frodo? I thought you were an official Baggins."

"Well, I am now," Frodo replied. "But when I was your age I was still living here, and as much a Brandybuck as you ever were. So, when I was twelve, the family took advantage of my being here and I had my Adventuring like everyone else. Not that I've ever been in again since," he added with a grimace. "Once was quite enough for me. It must have been the Baggins side showing itself."

"But who went in with you? If you don't mind me asking," Merry amended hastily. Being new to this sort of thing, he wasn't sure how far confidentiality extended. And Frodo's parents, though by now long gone, had always been a bit of a touchy subject. But Frodo was in a cheerful mood that day and didn't seem to mind, much to Merry's relief.

"You remember I used to live with Berry's family? Uncle Merimac took me in when I was small, so, naturally, when I grew older he took care of Adventurings and things. That was two years before you were born," said Frodo, smiling fondly.

Berry had suddenly gotten very agitated; he was dancing about in the path and poking them both.

"Shut up, both of you! Look! We're here! There's the hedge, right up ahead!"

So it was. Only the top of it was lit by the sun; the rest was still in shadow in the early morning. Birds were flitting in and out of it, calling to each other in slightly subdued tones, as if aware of the shadowy disapproval of the Forest just behind them. The small crowd of hobbits was moving down the line of the hedge to the depression in the ground where the gate lay; the Shire's last frontier.


	4. And so it begins

Chapter 5 will be along shortly, I hope. I'm drawing things out a bit as I want to get in as much detail as possible. Review!!

* * *

The three hobbits picked up their pace and jogged towards the small crowd now gathered at the Gate. Merry's heart was beating hard, and not only from the exercise. He knew perfectly well that countless Brandybucks before him had gone into the Forest and come out again completely unharmed; but this would be the first time he had ever left the Shire, and who knew what awaited him on the other side of the hedge?

They slowed to a walk as they reached the Gate. Old Rory Brandybuck was standing at the front of the group, who parted to let Merry through and pushed him forward until he stood in a wide space at the front. Berry and Frodo watched from the front of the crowd, but though Merry could feel the eyes of every hobbit on him, he was at present being eyeballed from the front by Rory and didn't dare turn around. He felt very small and vulnerable, as if he was standing there in front of the crowd wearing nothing at all. This wouldn't do at all! He had to at least look the part and not let them think he was in any way unworthy of his own Adventuring! Merry stood up straight, trying to make the most of his two feet and ten inches.

Rory came forward slowly, holding a bundle of dark green material in his arms, and addressed the assembled hobbits.

"My fellow Brandybucks," he rumbled, "today we are here to carry out the First Adventuring of our young relative Meriadoc Brandybuck, son of Saradoc, in this his twelfth year of life. As hobbits of the Brandybuck family we know the importance of teaching our children to respect and acknowledge the wider world outside our Shire's borders. Though we inside the Shire are safe from harm, beyond it lie strange lands and wild creatures. If they should ever dare to invade our borders, the Brandybucks must be prepared! And it's for that reason, brothers and sisters, that we show our children a taste of what lies out yonder." He turned to Merry and presented him with the bundle. "Young Meriadoc, today you go forward for the first time into lands beyond our own. I now present to you three tokens of the good will of your family and mine. These will shelter you, defend you and call help to your side. Use them well."

Merry took the bundle and it unfurled as he held it up. It was a dark green cloak with a hood attached, trimmed at the edges with pale gold embroidery and made to fit Merry exactly. He remembered in a flash his father's words to him in the garden two nights ago. _"Every Brandybuck whose Adventuring has passed will accompany us to the Hedge. You will be presented with a new cloak and a few things to help you if you ever need to defend yourself inside the Forest, although you should be perfectly safe." _Merry had remembered the new and decorative cloak Berry had suddenly acquired two years before, and how mysterious he had been about its origins in spite of his younger cousin's many attempts to extract the information. The two cousins simultaneously glanced at each other and grinned.

Merry swirled the cloak behind him and put it on, trying not to fiddle with the clasp at the front. He hoped he looked as dashing as he meant to. Old Rory cleared his throat. There were still two objects in his hands, which he now held out to Merry. One was a horn made of bone, simple and unadorned except for some carvings around the rim. Merry hoped he would be able to blow it properly—how humiliating if all he could manage was a raspberry noise! He stowed the horn in a pocket of his cloak and looked to the last gift. His eyes widened and he caught his breath as he picked up a small knife in a black leather sheath. The hilt was also bound with strips of brown leather, and at the top was set a polished piece of amber. Turning the knife around to look at it more closely, Merry saw that inside the stone a tiny dragonfly had been imprisoned. Its wings still shimmered in the sunlight filtering through the clear stone.

"That was my knife when I was a lad," said Saradoc behind him. Merry jumped slightly and twisted around to see his father's face. "Before that it belonged to your grandfather, and to his father before him. It has been passed down to every eldest son since it was made, many years ago. It's a family heirloom." Merry looked at the knife in his hands with a new respect. His father bent down and helped him to attach it to his belt, before standing back and giving his son an approving look. He spoke two words.

"You're ready."

Immediately the crowd of hobbits formed two rows on either side of Merry and his father, revealing the end of the path: a dive underneath the hedge, with strong brick walls rising higher and higher and finally curving over to form an arched roof. At the end of the tunnel, directly beneath the hedge, the way was blocked by a gate of thickset iron bars. Merry walked steadily forward, his father's words ringing in his mind.

"_Then the Gate will be opened, and you and I will go forward into the Forest. Remember to hold your head up high and always look forward, not to the side, whatever happens. I will be with you for one hour, and then I shall leave you—but remember, Merry, although it will seem as if you are alone, friendly eyes will be watching you, and any danger you manage to get yourself into, you'll not be in for long."_

He kept walking.

A sudden handclap rang out. It repeated slowly, and kept repeating as more and more hands joined the beat, always keeping to the same steady rhythm. _Clap. Clap._

Merry kept walking.

The clapping went on, on and on, and his heart skipped and joined the beat at double time. His nerves were tingling.

Merry kept walking.

Saradoc reached the gate, and drew out a key. He turned it in the lock. There was a click, and he beckoned Merry forward. Slowly, as if in a dream, the young hobbit reached out a hand and gave the gate a gentle push. It swung forwards. Beneath his feet the grass of the Shire was green and tame and healthy. Merry took a deep breath, lifted a foot, and set it down again in a foreign land.


	5. The Bonfire Glade

Well, here it is, the last chapter, finally finished! Apologies for the ridiculously long wait. Descriptions of the Old Forest and the Bonfire Glade are, as usual, based on those in _The Fellowship of the Ring, _as is the dialogue of a certain characterThe full story behind the Bonfire Glade can be found in FotR chapter VI: "The Old Forest," as told by Merry himself.

I hope you've all enjoyed this small piece of hobbitiness; I've certainly enjoyed writing it. As always, please review, and a big thank you to those who have previously done so.

* * *

The sound of clapping faded as soon as the gate had clanged closed behind them; whether because it had stopped, or because it was muffled by an unknown power of the Forest, Merry didn't know. He kept walking, out of the tunnel and into a grassy hollow. He jogged up the slope onto level ground, and then stopped and looked around him, eager for his first glimpse of the wider world.

The enormous trees towered over him. He could feel their disapproving glares as an almost physical force—but they didn't have faces, let alone eyes. Instinctively, Merry shrank back towards the hedge, the gate, and safety. Saradoc put a hand on his shoulder.

"The trees are never pleased when we enter their domain. But they are used to Adventurings by now, and they know we mean them no harm. Just make sure you keep your voice low, and make no violent movements—it may inspire them to anger."

Merry's mind boggled at this. His father was talking about the trees as if they were _creatures_—not only that, but conscious and intelligent! Who ever heard of a tree with a mind of its own? Merry had a feeling, though, that if ever a tree _could_ think for itself, this Forest would be its home.

"There is a path not far inside," Saradoc continued, "which leads to a place called the Bonfire Glade. Once we have found it, and I have told you its history, I expect our hour together will be up, and I shall leave you—though you will still be watched closely, and no harm shall come to you."

Merry had been told this ever since he had first found out about Adventurings from Berry, but it didn't make him any less apprehensive. In fact, it only added to his questions. If his father was no longer there, and (he was quite sure) the trees would rather cause him harm than shelter him from it—who would be watching? Who could live in here, so close to the Shire and yet beyond its borders, always ready and waiting for the next wide-eyed young hobbit to be in need of protection? But, more importantly—

"How will I find my way back?"

Saradoc chuckled. "I shall bring you back, of course. You are hardly expected to remember the way home by yourself after a single glimpse!" He hoisted his pack higher on his shoulders. "Come, time is running away from us, and our path needs finding."

"I thought you knew where it was?" asked Merry, as they marched towards the eaves of the Forest.

"Paths inside the Forest shift and change in a queer way. Nobody knows who, or what, makes them, but we know the trees can and do move about when nobody is looking. Perhaps they are the path makers."

"They _can_ move? I thought that was only a story."

"There is often a grain of truth in even the wildest of rumours, Merry. Remember that next time you hear one of old Mr. Bilbo's tales. That hobbit has seen more than most give him credit for."

"Frodo says he talks about all sorts of strange things—Elvish legends mostly, and goblins and kings and the sea. And of course there are always wars and fighting—that seems to be going on all the time. It makes me glad to live in the Shire, and to only be hearing about it. Although…" Merry's voice grew wistful.

"Some parts of it sound wonderful—high and noble and, and beautiful. I should like to meet an Elf one day. Not that I think it would make a lot of difference to them—they must have so many more important things to think about. And so brave and strong! They always seem to be fighting something evil, and they nearly always win. Sometimes I feel like I want to be in a battle too, just listening to all those stories. I feel like I could fight like they did, all those years ago. Mr. Bilbo says he was in a real battle, with Elves and Dwarves and goblins riding wolves, but he didn't fight. He went and hid somewhere until he saw the Eagles in the sky. But_ I_ wouldn't hide!" He sounded fierce and proud now, this tiny creature not even three foot tall. Merry was seeing himself at the front of a great army, leading a charge against a mass of goblins riding their wolves. Their own army was smaller, but they had everything that was good and true on their side, and in the end they would gain the victory, with Merry at their head…

Saradoc looked sharply at his son, who had a distant look in his eyes as he imagined the triumph at the end of the struggle. Here was a side of Merry he had never seen before. The lad looked set to follow in Mr. Bilbo's footsteps and more, at this rate. If that adventurous spirit endured beyond childhood, he would be a hobbit to be reckoned with.

Saradoc was presently forced to pause in his musings as they came in sight of a broad path; having seen it many times before, he knew it was the one they were seeking.

"Ah! Here it is," he said cheerfully.

Merry looked up with a start, and shivered. They had already come some way into the forest; the sun and sky were blocked from their view by masses of tree-limbs, and the sense of ancient disapproval that they had first felt on the eaves of the forest had been growing steadily stronger, the further they advanced. But Saradoc knew the most important thing was to keep Merry's spirits up, and he strode forward confidently. Merry had to trot at his side to keep up, all the time glancing anxiously about him as if a hidden assassin were about to leap from the trees and attack at the slightest provocation.

Presently they saw daylight in front of them along the path. The trees in front of them suddenly came to an end, and they emerged into a broad open field, blinking in the sudden strong sunlight. In the Shire it would have seemed a wild, untended wasteland, but after the dank gloom under the trees it looked domestic and welcoming. It was covered in long, scrubby grass and overgrown with nettles, thistles and tall plants going to seed, most of which Merry didn't know the names of. The leaves of the trees around it were greener and grew more closely, enclosing the glade in a thick leafy wall. The sunlight was bright around them, as the sun had risen fully during their time in the Forest. Merry began to feel a little better now that he was out from under the trees and, what was more, he could see the sky. He drew in a deep breath of relief and let it out slowly, smelling the smells of summer grass. Beside him, Saradoc looked around him with satisfaction.

"I suppose you're wondering what a patch of grass is doing in the middle of a wood?" he said presently.

As a matter of fact Merry hadn't been, but now he remembered that this was supposed to be a place with a history—which he was meant to hear today.

"Go on, then," he said, sitting down on a fallen branch, "let's have it! I feel quite ready for a story."

So Saradoc told Merry the tale of a long-ago attack on the great High Hay of the Shire by the trees of the Old Forest, and the bravery of a band of hobbits who strode in, hacking and burning, driving the trees back to their homes. In the process some of Merry's questions were answered. The trees could indeed move, and quickly, though it was hard to catch them doing it. And, he supposed, they really could talk to each other, too; how else could they have planned a strategic attack? Surely not by waving their branches around in complicated sign language. Merry had to stifle a giggle at the thought of these disapproving old trees swishing and gesturing madly in an attempt to make themselves understood.

Presently Saradoc's story ended; he stood up from his perch on a rock and squinted at the sun. "It looks about time I left you, Merry," he said at last. He smiled at the sudden look of dismay on his small son's face. "Now then, remember what I have been telling you! No harm can possibly come to you, and even if you do feel in the slightest danger, you have a horn and a knife to protect you. Help will never be far away."

Merry stood up straight and squared his shoulders. A slight breeze ruffled his curly hair.  
Saradoc laid a firm hand on his shoulder. "Good man." And he strode back into the darkness beneath the trees, never looking back.

For a moment Merry felt very small and lost, surrounded by these great tall trees hemming him in. But the feeling passed after a few moments, and he began to explore his surroundings. He walked around the edges of the Bonfire Glade, with the story of its creation running in his mind. The glade was peaceful and sunlit in the morning calm. It was hard to imagine fires and axes at work amid the deep groaning of old, old wood—hobbit voices shouting, a cloak of shadow spreading as hundreds of trees advanced and retreated, but always too quick for spying hobbit eyes—the long green line of the hedge dark, silhouetted against torchlight and firelight and standing strong still, the sturdy frontier…

Merry came back to his senses. One thing he _had_ learned so far today—he had no lack of imagination. He walked to the middle of the glade and checked for nettles before sitting down and rifling in his pack for something to snack on. Breakfast in the Shire seemed woefully long ago and far away. As he bent over he felt something hard sticking into his thigh, and he suddenly remembered the knife. Now would be as good a time as any to have a proper look at it.

He straightened and pulled it out of its sheath, admiring the way the little blade flashed boldly in the sun. He had never held a real, dangerous knife before, only kitchen knives for chopping things up. But their blades weren't as highly polished as this one; their handles weren't as richly decorated; they didn't have dragonflies imprisoned in stone at the top; and they didn't have this atmosphere of pure adventure. Merry held the pommel stone of amber up to the light and watched the rich, warm glow. The dragonfly's wings glittered from a distance of who knew how many years.

He admired the knife for a few more minutes and suddenly,for no discernable reason, felt very bold again. What if he left the Bonfire Glade and actually went into the forest by himself? Wouldn't that be something? He was sure not even Berry would have been so brave. Merry smiled grimly to himself. He'd show them how it was done!

He packed everything up again and set off for the edge of the glade, looking very determined. Reaching the edge, he peered through a gap in the trees. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light after the brightness of the clearing. All he could see were rows and rows of gnarled old trees, bent and twisted, their boughs turning in every direction to obscure as much light as possible. All of a sudden he perceived that they weren't just blocking out the sun—they were reaching forwards, grasping, clutching—they could see him, they were angry, they were coming! His knife would be no use—his breath came in short gasps, hardly enough to speak, let alone blow a horn—the others would never find him, he would be lost somewhere deep in the forest for ever—maybe someday, another more fortunate Adventurer would find his bones—Merry was rooted to the ground, unable to look, unable to look away, feeling himself being pulled forward by an inexorable force, strong as wood and soil and the ancient strength of many passing ages…

But what was that? A shaft of light? No, everything was still and dim; this was no vision, it was a sound. A singing sound; a song, but with no real sense to it, just a string of light nonsense piercing through the dark blanket of stuffy tree-wisdom.

_Hey dol, merry dol, ring a dong dello_

_Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow!_

Merry took a deep breath and tore his gaze from the long avenues of trees before him. He glanced around for the source of the sound, but all that caught his eye was a small flash of colour, brief enough to make him wonder whether it had been there at all.

_Ring a dong, hop along, fal lal the willow_

_Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!_

Merry walked steadily backwards away from the trees and sat down underneath a small overhanging clump of foxgloves.

_Fear no alder black! Heed no hoary willow!_

_Fear neither root nor bough! Tom goes on before you!_

Merry lay down in the soft grass and closed his eyes. He struggled half-heartedly against it, but gradually sleep stole up on him and before he knew it, he was dozing peacefully.

_Hey, come merry dol, derry dol, my darling_

_Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling…_

Saradoc had a moment of panic when he returned to the Bonfire Glade and could see no sign of his son. Searching under bushes, he soon caught sight of the dark green cloak. It appeared to be covering a slumbering twelve-year-old hobbit. Trust Merry to be so relaxed on his first expedition into the Forest that he'd fall asleep! Saradoc shook his son gently awake. To his surprise, Merry's eyes fluttered immediately open; he looked as if he had merely been resting his feet. He smiled calmly up at his father, who was taken aback at the strange look in his son's eyes. Merry looked older, wiser; full of understanding and at peace—a very different hobbit from the excited and slightly nervous young lad who had gazed in awe at his first sight of the new world only an hour or so ago. Saradoc decided there were some things about his son he would never really understand.

They walked back to the gate in silence. Merry had a lot to think about: the strange dreams of long ago, high and noble times, that he had had sleeping in the Bonfire Glade; the invisible singer that had rescued him; and why didn't he feel sleepy, as he should, or hungry, as he always did? In fact he didn't feel like he wanted anything. It was a strange feeling, to be completely contented.

His father was bursting with curiosity, but there was something about the thoughtful look in Merry's eyes that told him to leave the questions until his son had solved his own problems.

Eventually, they reached the hedge; chattering voices floated out through the gate, unconcerned and enjoying the excuse for a picnic. Walking down through the dell towards the gate, Saradoc and Merry were spotted by Berry and Frodo, who had appointed themselves the lookouts.

"_Adventurers ho!"_

Every hobbit stood up and applauded loudly, accompanied by cheers and whistles, as Saradoc unlocked the gate and ushered Merry forward. Merry felt some of his old self returning, and began to enjoy all the attention. He had done it; he had made it through the Adventuring! He had seen with his own two eyes that there was more in the world than what lay inside the Shire's borders. He was a real Brandybuck now, a hobbit of the world.

Merry was triumphantly escorted towards an extra-large picnic basket, and felt his appetite return with a vengeance. Frodo and Berry had been snacking happily since his departure, which did not of course mean they weren't delighted to "keep him company" again, hobbits being what they are. As a result, Merry was free to enjoy his second breakfast – or maybe closer to brunch – without interruptions for a while, before his cousins began to bombard him with questions.

"Aren't those trees _awful_?" Berry began, with a shudder.

Merry nodded. "I think they almost caught me when I tried to explore a little."

Both Berry and Frodo stared at him wide-eyed. "You went _exploring_?" whispered Berry, sounding scandalised.

"What, didn't you?"

"Of course not, I'm not stupid! I don't want to be crushed by some tree-root! I stayed in the Bonfire Glade and kept an eye on those branches."

Merry felt a little disheartened. Maybe he had overstepped the mark by straying out of the open space? He had thought he was being daring, but perhaps he had just been foolhardy and it was a wonder he was still in one piece.

Frodo caught his look of dismay and laughed. "Berry is a coward, don't mind him. I wasn't particularly interested in exploring by myself either during my Adventuring; I felt I'd seen quite enough walking up to the Glade with Berry's father. I sat down under a bush and wrote a poem about the forest for most of the hour I spent in there."

"But what do you mean, they almost caught you?" said Berry, still intrigued.

Merry related the story of his narrow escape, and the mysterious happy singer who had saved him and lulled him to sleep under a bush, where his father had found him half an hour later.

"I've never heard of that happening to anyone," said Frodo when he had finished.

"Well, it's perfectly obvious what happened," said Berry confidently. "You must have fallen asleep and dreamed the entire thing! It's the only explanation."

"I suppose I must have," said Merry, rather disappointed at this justification for his story – though he couldn't think of anything else that made sense. It had not felt like a dream at the time, though, and he definitely could not remember falling asleep before it had happened. What was more; he could remember the entire thing.

Frodo nodded and agreed, but looked at Merry strangely. It was clear he didn't quite believe Berry's version of events either. Berry himself continued eating, satisfied he had solved the mystery.

Merry looked back at the Hedge guarding the forest and continued to wonder what had really happened to him out there. Maybe there were things out there not even old Mr. Bilbo knew about – and they had helped him. Perhaps he, too, would fight in an army one day, and see Elves and dragons and treasure under mountains. Perhaps the Shire would one day be a home waiting for him at the end of an adventure.

One day, he would walk back through that gate and find that mysterious singer with his flash of bright blue, and see for himself what was really out there.


End file.
